Whelped, and Then Some
by Silverr
Summary: It hadn't always been this way. Once Leeroy's name and fame had made him the toast of any tavern he entered, and lured hundreds – well, okay, two or three – women to his bed. Now, he couldn't even afford to eat chicken. *** Leeroy Jenkins gets what's coming to him. Extended edition with "epilogue." Not entirely canon-compliant. :p
1. Schadenfreude

Disclaimer: Warcraft and World of Warcraft are the intellectual property of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. and are being used in this fanfiction for fan purposes only. No infringement or disrespect of the copyright holders of Warcraft, World of Warcraft, or their derivative works is intended by this fanfiction.

.

Chapter 1 of this story was first posted as a fill for the July 2012 session of the **areyougame** community on Dreamwidth.

.

.

* * *

**Whelped, and Then Some  
**

_by silverr_

* * *

_._

Leeroy Jenkins was happy to explain to anyone who asked why he hated the summer months. The heat and humidity didn't bother him, he'd say: no, it was because once the Midsummer Festival ended in early July there was nothing until Brewfest. No festivals meant no free drinks, which meant that not only would Leeroy himself be sober most of the time, very few of the attractive women he came across would be wearing beer goggles anytime before October.

It hadn't always been that way. Once Leeroy's name and fame had made him the toast of any tavern he entered, and had lured hundreds – well, more like a dozen – alright, _two_ – women to his bed. Now, however, with his rank reduced and his withdrawal privileges down to two gold a day, he couldn't afford to drink _or_ get laid. He couldn't even afford to eat chicken anymore. Not that the Underbelly served it: rumor was that the mystery meat was rat, which definitely did _not_ taste like chicken.

Fortunately, Leeroy still had plenty of friends. Granted, most of them had moved on to more active organizations that rarely passed through Dalaran, but usually when they did see him they were good for a meal and a drink in the Legerdemain. For old time's sake.

"So this is where you hang out now?" Chikkyboom the druid said as he watched Leeroy devouring the platter of shoveltusk steak and grilled tubers. "Nice place."

Leeroy shook his head. "No, I have a flop in the sewers."

Chikkyboom sighed. "I told you. Sell your old stuff."

"I tried," Leeroy said. "No one wants iLevel 60 healadin armor. One guy laughed in my face and told me that he'd lose money just heating up his forge to it melt down!"

"Well, that sucks."

"I hear your new guild is doing pretty good," Leeroy said. "Up in Icecrown."

Chikkyboom laughed. "Icecrown's old news. We're working the Firelands now."

"Really? Got any openings for an old pal? I mean, my gear's not the greatest, but … "

The druid avoided looking Leeroy in the eye by motioning to the waitress. "Uh, sorry, not at the moment."

Leeroy nodded, watching a gnome warlock and his succubus head for the Legerdemain's stairs. "Ain't that a kick in the epics," he said sourly. "Little freak is getting more tail than I am."

"Yeah, what's with that?" Chikkyboom said, punching Leeroy's shoulder. "What woman could resist Leeroy Jenkins, slayer of dragons!" Chikkyboom stood, then tucked a few gold by Leeroy's plate with a guilty smile. "Take it easy, man." He hurried off.

Leeroy scooped up the gold, then put his head in his hands.

"Excuse me."

Leeroy looked up. A woman stood by his table. Good-looking, though not really his type. Black hair (Leeroy liked redheads) framed a haughty (Leeroy liked 'em friendly), too-pale face with untinted lips. (Women who didn't wear makeup usually had a long list of other things they didn't bother with.) She was wearing a metal chestpiece over a cloth robe, which made no sense.

"I was told you know where to find Leeroy Jenkins," she said.

Her voice was on the snotty side, as if she was smelling something bad. Leeroy, curious about what her deal was, said, "I might. What do you want with him?"

"I'm an admirer of his. I wanted to give him something."

Despite the stern face, she had made an effort to make this sound promising, and so Leeroy upgraded her a little. Maybe she was just an ice princess that needed thawing. Then too, her eyes were nice, a warm dark brown, which awarded at least a few points. "I'm Leeroy." he said.

She looked surprised for an instant, then said, "Would you like to go upstairs?"

.

"So you're the man who single-handedly slaughtered three thousand eggs in the Rookery of Blackrock Spire?" she asked after closing the door.

Leeroy – who had already pulled off his tabard and kicked off his boots – paused.

She snapped her fingers, and the rest of his clothes disappeared. "Very heroic," she said.

"Well, I wasn't exactly – "

"You weren't _what?"_

"Er … never mind." He swallowed, deciding not to explain that he'd been far better at getting his pals killed than killing dragons. After all, if he was her idol, it would be cruel to shatter her young heart. "Aren't you going to get undressed too?" He was thinking that without the robe, she might look pretty much like a succubus. Without the tail.

She waved her hand, and several long strips of black silk materialized from the air.

Leeroy decided to get the party started, but as he reached for her she slapped him much harder than was necessary, her nice brown eyes momentarily blazing a not-so nice glowing red.

"I get it," Leeroy said. "You're the boss. That's hot."

"Be quiet." She roughly turned him to face the bed, blindfolded him, then tied his hands behind his back.

Leeroy was already looking forward to telling this story to the guys – unless she wound up using any … _toys_ ... on him. That, he'd probably not mention.

She grabbed one of his shoulders, said something in a language he didn't understand, and then suddenly he wasn't in Northrend anymore.

.

Leeroy Jenkins didn't always tell the truth to other people, especially if the truth was boring or embarrassing, and didn't always want to admit the truth to himself, especially if it was painful or scary. But sometimes a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do – especially if he's naked and blindfolded and tied up – and so, even though he didn't want to, he still asked, "Where am I?"

She laughed and pulled off his blindfold.

Rough stone walls glowed with a dim orange light. A low rumble whose source was out of sight at the end of the corridor echoed ahead of him, and a rush of hot, sulfurous air snaked over his skin. That told him what he didn't want to know: that he was in the Lair of the Broodmother.

"Who are you? Why did you bring me here?" He pulled at the bonds on his wrists, but they didn't budge.

"I am known as Nalice in this form," she said. "You have killed hundreds of my kind."

"Your ... kind?"

"My sister and I should have given you the reward you deserve long ago, but we had other matters to attend to. Until now."

Leeroy heard the all-too familiar plop of hatching dragon eggs, then a rustling, flapping sound behind him like the movement of tiny, leathery wings. A moment later the stone wall flickered with hundreds of shadows. "Reward?"

"Wait til you meet the _left_ side."

.

.


	2. Schattigfrau

Disclaimer: Warcraft and World of Warcraft are the intellectual property of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. and are being used in this fanfiction for fan purposes only. No infringement or disrespect of the copyright holders of Warcraft, World of Warcraft, or their derivative works is intended by this fanfiction.

.

Chapter 1 of this story was first posted as a fill for the July 2012 session of the **areyougame** community on Dreamwidth.

.

.

* * *

**Whelped, and Then Some, part 2  
**

_by silverr_

* * *

_._

_.  
_

"You've got it wrong!" Leeroy pleaded. "I didn't kill any dragons! I'm a healer! I just ran around hatching the eggs! For fun!"

Nalice narrowed her eyes. "You dare lie to me? Do you not know that each dragon's soul is connected? I felt each life that you snuffed out!"

"I had nothing to do with it!" Leeroy said. "Maybe the others did that after they kicked me out!" From the corner of his eye he could see the whelps swarming above him, a dark, impatient cloud of death waiting for Nalice's signal.

"Kicked you out?" she asked.

"Everyone was really mad that the whelps killed us," Leroy said. "They called me a loser and stupid as hell." He sighed. "And after that they hardly ever invited me."

Nalice folded her arms. "Invited you to what?"

"Uh …" Leeroy was pretty sure that telling Nalice that he and his friends went out regularly to kill things wouldn't go over so well unless he stressed the non-dragon killing. "To go out and fight the Burning Legion. Or the Scourge. Or, uh, Titan constructs."

Nalice narrowed her eyes, then smiled at him. "So the _heroes_ leave you behind, do they? Who are they fighting now?"

"I don't know." Leeroy decided that he preferred Stern Nalice to Friendly Nalice. Friendly Nalice was even scarier.

"Are you sure?" Nalice bent down and did something that … well, no one had ever done anything like that to Leeroy, _ever_. Not even in his dreams.

"Firelands?" he offered, when he could talk again.

"So they're attacking Ragnaros?" Nalice asked. "Who else? Twilights?" She pressed harder, making Leeroy squirm and whimper. "The Blackwyrm cult? Nefarian? _Deathwing?_"

"I don't know!" Leeroy's eyes were wide with terror, and more than a bit of astonished lust. No cheerful redhead had ever given him such a combination of unexpected sensations.

"I will let you live," Nalice said, dispersing the whelps, "for now. You will arrange for us to be invited to these groups you spoke of."

"Why?"

"We will ensure that they fail."

.

_So be wary, adventurers of Azeroth. Should you find yourself in a group suffering inexplicable difficulties, scrutinize your comrades carefully. If there be an arcane mage with ebon hair and pale skin, and a holy paladin with dark skin and a snowy beard, there's a point-eight-bar-three chance they're Nalice and Leeroy. _

_And if they are, you might want to discreetly drop group._

_Just sayin.'_

.

.

~ The End ~

.

.

Author's notes here.

_._

(05) 29 Dec 2012


End file.
